


Hegemone

by Taciturn



Series: Goddesses [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Slice of Life, non-genre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 20:57:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taciturn/pseuds/Taciturn
Summary: Bound by blood and duty, Gladiolus reaches realization after a brief meeting with a goddess of the forest.





	Hegemone

Hegemone (Ἡγεμόνη) was a Greek goddess of plants, specifically making them bloom and bear fruit. According to Pausanias, Hegemone was a name given by the Athenians to one of the Graces. 

–

Gladiolus Amicitia knew full well the weight of duty and bloodline. His life was bound and tied to the ink which wrapped around his arms and held his back. He, of all people knew how heavy a burden responsibility truly was. He was reminded of this load he bore daily by the ferocious, glaring bird which graced his chest and spread throughout his body. Gladiolus, the name itself spoke of gentleness, a flower, almost unfitting for him. Gladio, there, that name was much stronger to him, it spoke of warriors and grand fights to the death. Gladio Amicitia was built from his lineage and shackled by a duty he did not ask for.

What weakness he did have he hid behind a cheeky grin and gruff laugh. A shield should not, could not, show cracks for a future king. Though, shield he may be, he was as human as they all were. A temper boiled within him that at times, couldn’t be held back. As such, Gladiolus found himself camping often. The outdoors and vast open sky let him breath and listen to the sound of his own heartbeat. The call of animals in the distance let him believe that as bound by duty as he was, he was still just another cog in the great world. He was a large man, but still, he was infinitesimally small in the grand scheme of the world.

During his trips camping, Gladiolus discovered the precious beauty in succulents. He related to them in a way. There was a sense of responsibility they had about themselves that drew him in. The way that Fibonacci ruled, dictated, bound them by their duty to numbers to become the geometric beauties that they had reminded him of the structure and responsibility that he bore as a shield.

Often, people were at awe whenever they saw the overflowing pot filled with echeveria and peyote blooms that sat in his room. They reflected him well, simple and hardy, low maintenance and bound by laws beyond control. Many times, he found himself apologizing to them in the event he forgot to water them for an extended period. Always, they would forgive him, for they too, understood the weight of his duty.

His temperament would often get him into trouble. “Remain calm.” They’d tell him. “You’ve got to work on your temper.” They’d chide. “This will get you in trouble someday.” They’d say as if he didn’t know full well what sort of havoc his short fuse could bring about. He couldn’t change this about himself, try as best as he could, he could never find the patience in him to see clearly before everything went red. “Staying calm” just wasn’t in his dictionary, and as much as they tried to push this additional responsibility to him, he refused it with all his might as it just another way for them to take his sense of self away from him.

His escape from the burden of life became words. Immersed in books, he could forget who he was born to be and he could find a momentary sense of peace from it all. However, even sometimes, the books became too loud for him and in the end, he sought solace in being alone with nothing more than the sounds of the wild about him. The crackle of a cheerful fire under the grand void of stars was sometimes all he needed to feel the weight on his shoulders melt away.

–

A routine, lonesome camping trip was the first time he encountered a goddess. Within his brief exchange with her, he truly felt and understood what it meant when the distance of the stars was too close.

It was a good thing that the spring had been relatively mild and rain hadn’t made the ground too soft and wet. It was best during these times for him to feel the dirt underneath his shoes as he hiked up the mountain, taking the well-worn path, he knew would lead him to his preferred campsite. His journey was always planned when he went camping, his goal always in mind and he rarely ever strayed from the paths he had long memorized. Gladiolus never brought music with him when he went out alone. The sound of scampering creatures and songbirds accompanied by the stream nearby was enough to keep his ears entertained.

So, when he heard someone whistling past the sound of rustling leaves, he was sure he was hallucinating.

Framed by budding spring foliage, shoes thrown to the side, she tiptoed barefoot amongst the dead leaves and branches on the ground, drawing shapes with her toes only she understood the meaning of. The hem of her dress was smeared with dirt, and she shamelessly dusted more onto as she felt was needed. Lost in her own head and ignoring the world around her, she danced to a tune she had long memorized from a forgotten lullaby that was centuries old. Intrigued, Gladiolus found himself leaning against a nearby tree to watch her as she gracefully moved to a tune unknown to anyone but to herself.

Her whistles sometimes melted into soft humming as she plucked leaves from the trees to weave into her hair. They became a halo greenery which dipped and ducked into wild strands of her hair while the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across her cheeks from her eyelashes. Her languid movements and leisurely movements smelled of bamboo blossoms drenched in summer rain and honey.

He lost track of how long he had been staring, until eventually she turned to greet him when she noticed she wasn’t alone.

“Why hello there, stranger! Not often you get people camping this time of the year!”

“And why wouldn’t it be the time of the year for camping?” He asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. She hardly looked like she was even prepared to do any camping herself with her thin dress and bare feet.

“Bears are waking up from their hibernation, y'know.” She warned in hushed tones while she took a good look at him. She never kept still enough for him to catch more than a brief whiff of her scent which reminded him of fresh rain and sun brewed tea. “And a handsome guy like you probably doesn’t want to get eaten by bears.”

He let out a loud, hearty laugh at her statement. “I don’t know if I should be the one who’s afraid of bears, what about you? You don’t look like you’re equipped to handle them yourself.”

“I have a house I visit every now and then little ways from here. So, I’ll be perfectly safe.” She shrugged pointing in the direction her home was before standing on tiptoe to reach just past his shoulder and grab at a leaf that caught her fancy. “My job takes me lots of places so I can’t come back here as much as I like.”

“Is that so? What do you do?”

“I’m an agrologist. I get to do all the fun dirty work!” She explained with a giggle.

How he wished he could bottle that sound that bubbled from her lips to listen to when the sky was dark and his burden was too heavy to hold. Again, he was back to watching her gentle movements as the sun set and the dappled light danced with her to a tune he could only wish he could follow.

“So, do you usually come out to camp when it’s dangerous out?”

“I go camping when I feel like it.” Gladiolus explained with a shrug. Realizing that this indeed was not a figment of his imagination, he took it upon himself to put his gear down and strike conversation with her.

“Ooh, tough guy.” She teased, sitting herself down on a tree stump and lazily picked at the rotting bark at the edge of her makeshift seat. “Something about it makes you feel  _alive_  or something deep and meaningful like that?”

He didn’t want to admit to her that she was right. That the more treacherous times of the year were what he looked forward to the most. There was a strange sort of recklessness that came over him during this time of year that he craved. It satiated his temper and let him feel a little less responsible for his own life.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes then.” She grins. “Well, don’t mind me! You can go on your merry way and do that manly camping thing that you do!”

Before he could give her much more of an answer, she had already left his line of sight and fluttered to a different spot, enamored by something else. Part of him wished it that she would keep her attention on him. But, he was too enraptured by her motions, her aura and the old folk songs she hummed. He found that he didn’t mind doing anything other than watching her go about her way while the shadows became longer and the setting sun lit the forest ablaze with reds and oranges between softy rustling leaves.  

Perhaps it was the way she didn’t have a care in the world that made his heart flutter. Or maybe it was the way she cradled the soil in her hands and whispered encouragement to it that made him realize that she truly was a goddess of the little things in life. He wasn’t hallucinating and this was a moment too real for him to grasp in his own hands.

“Shouldn’t you be heading over to your campsite soon? It’s going to be nightfall before you make it, and daemons are scarier than bears.”

“Ah… Yeah. It was nice meeting you?”

“Likewise!” She grinned, plucking a leaf she had saved in her hair and placing it precariously behind his ear. “For good luck, and a safe journey.” She said with a wink before picking up her discarded shoes and flouncing off, following a path that only she knew. As brief as their meeting was, Gladiolus was sure that she was the kind of person who never followed any beaten trails to get to her destination.

He made it to his preferred campsite barely in time as night set in. As peaceful as he found his trips out to the wilderness, his meeting with her had left him yearning for something more in his life. He envied her, her freedom, her ethereal movements, all of it. She was created from stardust and long forgotten fairy tales filled with happy endings. Whereas he was built from blood and forged in steel and ink. The leaf she presented him itched at his skin, reminding him of everything he could not have. Try as he might to throw it into his campfire as extra kindling, he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the only artifact he had of her existence.

Instead, he gently tucked it into the pages of his book, pressing and preserving her memory for as long as he could.

That night, he slept restlessly, his dreams haunted by the sounds of daemons in the distance and the soft whistling of a song older than the world.

–

Taking the worn path back down to civilization would have been the easiest and quickest route. However, the day after his meeting, Gladiolus let his feet wander off the dirt road and in the general direction she had pointed her place to be.  _I should at least get her name…_

The soft spring soil dipped easily under his weight as he followed nothing but his internal compass and instinct.  _It’s got to be somewhere this way. That’s where she pointed…_ The further and further he delved into the forest, the more he began to doubt his sense of direction. It wasn’t until the sun had long passed its midday point when he found an inkling of his destination. There, tucked neatly in the densest part of the forest was a tiny hovel of a home.

_There’s no way…_

Approaching it, Gladiolus was certain that no one lived there, but his tracking senses told him otherwise. Disturbed earth and the traces of footsteps told him that someone truly had been there previously. The closer he got, the more he saw how overrun with greenery the house was. Even the windows had the snaking tendrils of vines covering it. He let out a long, loud laugh when he saw that the nameplate in front of the house which would have told him about the family who lived there had long been rusted out and made illegible from time.

“I’m going crazy… I really am.”

If that was the case, then perhaps one day, when the stars were finally far enough apart and his books were filled with leaves the color of the setting sun, he’d be willing to take that journey to find her again. He’d look for her and try to remember what it’s like to live life without responsibilities. Gladiolus Amicitia was born into duty and bound by ink and steel. However, he always brought the memory of the onetime his heart felt free in the form of leaves pressed into the pages of his favorite novel, sticky with the residue of crushed succulents.


End file.
